Exalted: Obsidian and Ivory
by Seraph Azriel
Summary: The dark tale of the rise of the 14th Deathlord, who will bring about the end of Creation.
1. The Deathknight

Betrayed Servant of Eternal Shadows was pensive. He was crouched low upon the remnants of a pillar, somewhere far north of Crystal. A massive blizzard was howling about him, causing the ragged remnants of his cape to flap about in the wind. Snowflakes lashed at his soulsteel armor, as if to try and flay the very flesh from his bones. The armor that he now wore was the reason that he had come to this place, guided by the voices of his Neverborn masters. They had lead him deep into the catacombs of this once manse to where an Abyssal had fallen into a deep crevasse, landing on his head. The body had been dead for a long while, with only small gray scraps still attached to his skeleton. The smell of death had been rife in that place.

The armor that Servant now wore was as black as midnight, but in the light it shown like dark grey steel. One probably wouldn't even know that the suit of armor held within it the tortured souls of the living. At almost all the joints were odd plates where the metal flared out, designed to deflect the blows of opponents. Apparently, the smith had taken on an artistic interest and fashioned them to somewhat resemble bat wings. The whole suit of armor had been flanged with careful precision. Skull like designs adorned the pauldrons, gardbrace, and helm. The sabatons covering his thick leather boots ended in a pair of talons that had clenched the ground almost reflexively when he had poured his Essence into the suit. Servant thought that if whatever ghostly smith had created this thing of beauty had no living relatives to offer him tribute, then he'd give him a king's tribute in offerings. However the reason that he was now squatting in the midst of a ruined Solar manse, clad in black armor, was the skull that he held in the clawed gauntlets covering his hands. The few motes of Essence that he had channeled through the armor had attuned it to him, making it an extension of his own body. Betrayed Servant could feel the organic roughness of the skulls' jawbone, which was the most of what was left of the once Abyssal Exalted. He wondered who the deathknight had served in life. Considering the fine armor that he had been wearing and the shattered remnants of a grand daiklave that had been lying beside his body, Servant guessed that it was likely a servant of First and Forsaken Lion. The corner of Servant's mouth twisted in a sardonic half-smile.

"How sad for you." Servant said as he tossed the shattered skull back into the crevasse from whence it came. He would have liked to have heard the sound of the bone crunch as it landed upon the rock and razor-edged crystals, but not even his heightened hearing could pick out the sound of its landing with the wind howling around him. Rising back up, the deathknight looked around the ruins, wondering if he shouldn't find the center of the manse and attune it to the Underworld.

Then Betrayed Servant of Eternal Shadows could feel the voice of his master.

However, it wasn't his Deathlord, the petty general First and Forsaken Lion, but his true master. The one that lay dormant near the mouth of Oblivion dreaming of the Void. The Malfean: He Who Holds In Thrall. Servant could still remember the first time that he had heard the Whisper of his Malfean lord, it had been almost immediately after he had undergone the Black Exaltation. That sibilant, wonderful, and terrifying voice had guided him, leading him to the tiny shadowland near the Elemental Pole of Fire where he then descended into the Underworld, to accept his true calling.

_ 'Leave this place, walk far to the north. And do what must be done.'_ True to the title, the Malfean's voice was barely above a whisper. Servant could feel the icy shard of the being's intellect softly withdraw from his mind as a cold dagger leaves an even colder corpse. He loved it when the Neverborn spoke their will to him, it filled him with a kind of pleasure that he had never known in his mortal life. Turning away from the ruins Servant thus began walking. The wind still howled about him, lashing impotently with delicate white crystal flakes. Servant smiled at the furious display of nature, it almost served to remind of life's incessant, and futile, struggle against death. His chuckle was snatched away from his lips and lost in the freezing wasteland as he marched on into the snow.

.


	2. The Sidereal

The first thing that Ahn Aru knew when the Lunar's dire lance pierced her body was that she was going to die. Unperturbed by the development, she had simply activated the prayer strip hidden beneath her quiver, which would whisk this body away into non-existence for a short amount of time until she could resume active duty again.

But something had gone horribly wrong. Sad Ivory wasn't sure what Charm that the older Lunar woman had used, but she could suddenly feel the stream of Essence gathering around her suddenly twisting in a different direction. With horror, the young woman realized that Lilith had changed her body's destination. And then the Favored of Saturn was gone, chained to the trail of Essence that she had unleashed.

A second later, she had appeared in a world of white, and then the pain hit her. It drove the Sidereal to the ground, hitting her with the force of a grand daiklave. Ahn Aru gave a shriek of pain as she landed in the snow, the sudden cold driving shards of pain into her wound, her chopping sword dropping from numbing fingers. Then the cold hit her, the howling wind pierced through her as if she were laying there naked. But worst of all, she knew, she _knew_, that this was where she would meet the end of her life. The shock of it all weighed down on her, crushing her. She had served the Bronze Faction well; she'd killed many Anathema and even a Gold Faction Sidereal. As she lay in that bed of marble flakes, Sad Ivory noticed that the gaping hole in her chest didn't hurt as much. Fumbling a numb hand across her chest, she clumsily attempted to probe the wound. She could stick almost her whole hand deep into the wound; the blood that had been soaking into her shirt had already frozen stiff. But that was the least of her worries at this point, considering that she couldn't feel or move her legs or hips. Puffing small white clouds into the howling winds with each desperate gasp, Ahn Aru tried to draw upon the Essence within her but her grasp on it kept slipping as her body quickly grew more and more numb.

As Sad Ivory lay in the snow, blood freezing in the hole in her chest as fast as it pumped out, she then realized how tired she was. Now the Sidereal couldn't feel any of her body. And she was just so tired that she didn't even realize her eyes were halfway closed. She was just so tired…. And then her eyes closed.


End file.
